A mist blew across Rim the following morning. It was wet and damp, keeping the island's occupants in their tents. The weather seemed to have blown in from the sea overnight, even if no one saw it coming. Still, it wasn't an unexpected occurrence in Valencia, just an unwelcome one on this particular day.
The sun seemed to have yet to rise. Or if it had, it was nestled perfectly behind a layer of clouds. They crackled occasionally with the power of the sea. Thunderous booms seemed to shake the very foundation of the island. Anyone choosing to travel on a day such as this was plain mad.
With so much sea around, the crashes of energy mostly seemed to connect with the island. In the distance, a thunderous boom broke the morning as a tree exploded under the impact. Elsewhere, a bolt struck the charred remains of a once powerful fortress. The energy mixed with the ashes for a moment before dissipating into the ground.
The gearborn ship remained unmoving at its post. Their massive central mast contained a rod that conducted this energy into the bowels of their tremendous vessel. They had no reason to fear the skies, and neither did the robots in the caves. Still, even they remained stoically beneath deck during the storm.
The sound of crunching leaves was lost in the tyranny of the storm. With each step, he drew nearer, closer. Everything about him was of the dark. A long black coat and a black tricone hat. There was an ominous presence to the way the figure walked. They seemed to demand obedience or death.
Wind and water whisked around the man, but he paid it no mind. In fact, it seemed the perfect day to finally end the chronicle of Rim once and for all. No more Valencians and soon, no more gearborn.
Pushing away a branch, the man stepped out onto the sandy beach. It seemed to stretch forever in the distance where it met the depths of the teal sea. A towering plateau stood in front of him, and he let out a quiet chuckle.
Far on the top of the plateau, perfectly concealed, was a long black tube. He knew instantly this was some sort of cannon. They had done an excellent job keeping it hidden and unseen. None of his men would notice until it was crashing down upon them. However, the cannon was not hidden well enough.
His eyes may not have been as powerful as someone like Zara, but his body still boasted incredible boons from his many accomplishments. It allowed him to note the emptiness of the roof of the plateau. There was no one manning the cannon, and it seemed to have been left totally undefended.
He could likely leap up the side of the plateau in a few quick jumps. With a sigh, he continued his stroll across the sand. What was the point of going up the side? He might as well walk straight through the front door. He was here to show his men what happened when you disrespected the Pirate King.
The lack of defenders was momentarily disconcerting. He had, of course, been expecting the mass of Valencians to be prepared to bring all hell down on him. It wouldn't have been enough, not with their numbers, but it was their style. For them to all be hiding away meant there was a plan in the works.
The grin that split his face was comical in nature. It was lucky that no one saw it because it was the sort of grin one gave before committing the most despicable crimes imaginable.
There would be death today, and he couldn't wait!
The silence when he reached the cave entrance would have been concerning under normal circumstances. For the defenders to have remained so silent and unmoving, well, it didn't bode well for him. However, the Pirate King could sense the life of those occupying the space. Through all the stone, dirt, and sand, he couldn't get a proper estimate of numbers, but they were all likely present.
"Foolish," he muttered, "Putting all their eggs into one basket. At this rate, I won't even need to draw my blade…"
He trailed off as his footsteps echoed into an empty chamber. Nearly empty, at least. At the far end of the cavern, his first host seemed to have finally made his presence known. A man held a glowing spear carefully at his side. His posture was the perfect replica of any Valencian military position.
From the man's head to his toes, he held himself there, unflinching as The Pirate King entered the chamber. He couldn't help but sigh. Here was a man so dedicated to his convictions that he even stood in direct resistance while his enemy approached. Why couldn't he have been waiting in the shadows to attack when he arrived?
The Pirate King took a moment to glance around at the shadows. Of course there was no one; the Valencians refused to fight like a gang of thieves, and the Montrelans were too focused on their honor. None of them had yet realized that victory was far more important than anything else.
Taking another few steps, he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Quite the welcoming chamber you have prepared for me, don't you think? It could use a little furnishing, but other than that…it's perfect, Silas."
Silas didn't move from his position despite the use of his name. The Pirate King had hoped that would disconcert the man. He had certainly worked on Zara after a fashion. However, this man didn't so much as flinch.
"Where's the trap, my friend? Clearly, this is not enough to kill me. But what makes you think that your trap will even work?"
Nothing.
He frowned slightly. What was this man's aim? Was it to draw him away from his camp long enough for an attack? No, that didn't make any sense. It would only take him a few seconds to deal with Silas. There had to be a trap waiting for him somewhere. No matter. Whatever trap they hoped to spring, he would let them. It wouldn't do them any good now. He knew all of their resources and abilities. This information was far more valuable to him than it would be to the foolish Valencians.
Taking another step forward, a glowing blade manifested in his hand. "You don't seem to be in any mood to surrender. So, Valencian, it's time to die."
Silas's only response was to level his spear.